16. NICK
JUNE
I don’t know how the fuck it happened, but somehow Mom and Mila are best friends. They spend nearly every day together, filling each other in on the laughable stories about me. Only issue is, Mila likes to offer up a story every time Mom tells one, and considering Mila doesn’t have quite as many, she’s given Mom all the filthy details. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad that Mila was so attached to the bright red dildo I handcrafted for her, but sharing with Mom what we did with it over Dad’s birthday dinner wasn’t exactly my best moment.
We’re well and truly halfway into the year, and while Mila has definitely eased up on her silent treatment, we’re still not where we need to be, but there’s no doubt how happy she is now. She comes and visits the workshop nearly every day, and while she hasn’t come right out and said it, I think she’s found purpose there.
She smiles every day, and I fucking love it. She even offers the occasional one to me, and when she does, it always blows me the fuck away. I always find her checking in on me, whether she casually walks past my office, acting as though she isn’t peeking in to see what I’m doing, or simply just being near me around the house.
She needs me, and while she won’t admit it, I know that she knows it.
Mila Morgan still loves me. I just wish she’d be able to get past this anger that’s engrained so deeply in her soul, and while it will kill me for her to ever leave here, if that’s what she still wishes by the time Christmas comes around, I will send her home.
We finish up dinner with my parents, something we tend to do quite a lot now. I never used to. Every blue moon I’d head over to their place, and it usually had something to do with not being fucked to cook, but things have been different since Mila arrived. My father doesn’t look at me as though he fears I’m going to fuck up anymore, and when Mom looks at me, it’s always with a proud smile.
Tonight though, it’s our turn to host dinner, and as usual, Mila stood right beside me in the kitchen and helped me cook a meal for my parents. And by help, I mean she eagerly listened to instructions, fucked them up, and needed me to fix it. She’s a disaster in the kitchen, and I don’t say that just to be a dick. I fucking mean it. She can’t be left alone with a spoon, but I love that she tries anyway. And I love that every time she does, she always glances over her shoulder, checking to see if she still has my undivided attention.
The answer is always yes.
I watch her, but she watches me right back, both of us trying to be discreet about it, but when it comes to Mila Morgan, there’s not a damn discreet thing about her. We’ve become in tune with each other’s movements, to the point that we no longer need the strained communication. I can simply look her way and she knows what I’m thinking. Same thing in the morning, she knows that after I’ve had something to eat and a coffee, there’s roughly three minutes until I walk out the door, and she always makes sure to beat me to the snowmobile to be the one who gets to drive.
There’s no doubt about it. She loves it here. She’s found peace, and yet I hate that despite how close we are, we’re still so far away. I need to hold her, need to feel her lips on mine, need to hear the way she whispers how she loves me, but most of all, I need to taste her.
With dinner out of the way, I start clearing the table, and just as Mila moves to get up, my father puts his hand over hers, keeping her seated. “How are you, dear?” he asks, searching her eyes for the truth, a skill he’s always been so good at.
She smiles, and I go about my business, clearing the table while doing everything I can to listen in on their conversation. “I’m happy,” she tells him. “Really happy.”
“But something is missing,” he says. “I sense it in you. Your heart is still hurting.”
Mila glances back at me, her gaze locking onto mine, and I don’t even bother to pretend I’m not listening. “It is,” she agrees, her words tearing me to pieces as she breaks our stare and turns back to face my father. “Don’t get me wrong, I love your son, and I wish there was some way I could simply put everything behind me, but I can’t shake this feeling that I was tricked into it. Yes, I asked for this, but I didn’t have all the information. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to the life I’d built for myself, and despite how much happier I am here with Nick, I still find myself missing the life I had. New York was where I grew up. It’s where my parents are buried, where I became the woman I am. I feel as though I’m mourning a part of myself.”
My head hangs low between my shoulders, not having realized how deeply she felt about this. It’s so much more than I had imagined. I never considered the attachments she had to that place. I just assumed she was ready to leave because she hated her job and was lonely. She was a broken version of herself, and while that part of her is mended, I fear all I’ve done is broken a different piece that I had no right to break.
“I understand,” my father tells her. “Life is . . . fickle. It surprises us in ways that sometimes we’re not quite ready for. I think if you truly gave this place a chance, truly opened your heart to Nick, you will see this is right where you belong. You will find your happiness here, just as I have with Nick’s mother. As for missing your parents and your home, I fear that will never change, no matter where you are in the world, but I can guarantee that it will eventually get easier, and one day, you’ll be able to look back on those memories with fondness.”
“I sure hope so,” Mila whispers.
With that, my father gets up from the table before walking behind Mila’s chair and placing his hand on her shoulder. “Do try to find it within yourself to forgive Nick. You both deserve to have everything with each other, and between you and me, Nick is better with you here. His heart is brighter, and I don’t want to see what happens to him if you were to choose to go back to New York.”
Who would have known my father was such a wingman?
My parents leave, and when Mila makes her way into the kitchen, intent on helping me clean up, all I can do is walk into her and wrap her in my arms, watching the way she sinks into me. Her arms wrap right around me, and as she rests her head against my chest, silence falls over us.
She hasn’t allowed me this close in a long time, and now that I finally understand what’s going on inside of her, that it’s so much more than just being angry that I knocked her out and brought her here, I need to try harder.
“I’m sorry, Mila,” I murmur, my lips against her hair. “I didn’t realize it ran so deep. If I had known—”
“Don’t do that,” she whispers. “Don’t regret bringing me here. I want to be here. I want to be with you in this place. This is my home now. I just need to work through some things first. But your dad is right. I need to figure my shit out, and the sooner I can do it, the better.”
OCTOBER
My cock springs to life. These past few months have been fucking torture, and what’s worse, Mila knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Apparently, she made herself some kind of deal that she won’t break during these twelve months, and she’s determined to stick it out. Even if that deal was made out of anger.
She’s not angry anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to spread her legs and let me have my wicked way with her. She wants to make me suffer right up until Christmas when she makes her final decision to stay or go.
Fuck. Just the thought of her leaving cripples me because what happens then? If she walks away and decides she can’t forgive me for taking her away from her life, what am I supposed to do? Will she keep wishing me back every year? Do we go back to the way things were when I would sneak into her bedroom just to watch her sleep on Christmas Eve? Not being able to reach out and touch her will fucking destroy me, but not as much as she’s trying to destroy me right now.
I listen to her sweet moans coming from my bedroom, moans I would recognize anywhere. She whispers my name, knowing damn well I hear everything. She didn’t even bother closing the door because she doesn’t intend to hide this from me. Her intentions are clear—she wants to fuck with me. She wants to drive me wild with need, and it’s more than working. Hell, I’ve had to jerk off eight times in the shower this week alone, and it’s only Wednesday.
“Nick,” she groans again, and this time, I can’t fucking help myself.
Reaching up to the one cupboard she can’t reach in the living room, I scoop up the little present I made for her earlier this week and make my way to the bedroom, pausing in the doorway, my shoulder propped against the frame as I simply watch the show.
Mila sits up in our bed, her spine straight against the headboard, head tipped back, and those beautiful eyes closed. She’s wearing a black lingerie set with her knees up and her fingers pushing the material of her thong aside as she works her sweet clit. Her hand roams over her body, cupping her full tits before rolling over her pebbled nipple, and my fucking mouth waters.
I’m stiff as a fucking board, desperate to be inside of her, to be the one working her clit, to be the one with my mouth all over her body, but for now, I get my satisfaction out of simply smelling her sweet arousal in the air.
The very sight of her could bring gods to their knees, and as I fight the impulse to race to her and give her what she so clearly needs, I settle for clearing my throat instead. She opens her eyes slowly, not startled in the least, which proves that she knew I was here all along.
“Something you need, sweetheart?” she questions, only ever using that endearment whenever she’s being sarcastic.
I grin and hold up the bright purple dildo, the exact replica of the red replica of my cock, something that took me three attempts to make. During the first attempt, the mold putty was the wrong consistency, and I didn’t figure it out until after I’d stuck my dick into the tube. The second time, I took it out too early and destroyed the mold, and the third? Well, the third was fucking perfect.
“If you’re going to sit in here and fuck yourself while pretending you don’t desperately want to be a whore for me, the least you can do is ride my cock.”
Her eyes light up seeing the purple dildo, and I toss it across the room, watching as her hand snaps up and plucks the silicone shaft out of the air. She’s hungry for it, not having had me since Christmas Day, and this right here is the perfect substitute.
Mila wastes no time, crawling up onto her knees and settling over the purple cock, and as she lowers herself down, her cheeks become flushed, and I can’t tear my gaze away from the sight. She tilts her hips back, giving me the perfect view of the way she takes the purple cock, and when she rises back up again, the silicone is drenched in her sweet arousal.
My cock twitches in my pants, and I have no choice but to adjust myself.
She doesn’t tear her eyes off me, getting herself off on the way I watch her, and though it’s not an invitation to join, she sure as fuck doesn’t want me to leave.
“Fuck, Nick,” she cries, her chest heaving, already driving herself right to the edge as her skilled fingers work her sweet clit.
She picks up her pace, and I can’t take it any longer, pushing off the doorframe and moving into the room. Mila tracks my every step, knowing how much she’s making me suffer right now, but judging by the need in her eyes, I’m not the only one suffering tonight. She’s worked herself up, and now that she needs more than a silicone cock, I’m not going to give it to her.
“Nick,” she begs as I make my way around her side of the bed.
I reach toward her, closing my hand around her throat and gently squeezing before leaning in close enough that she feels my breath dancing across her lips. If she wants to kiss me, all she has to do is close the gap.
“Nick, please,” she begs.
“Come for me, Mila. Let me hear how you scream for me.”
She comes almost on cue, and her desperate cries are like music to my ears.
“Fuck,” she grunts, still riding the purple cock as her fingers trail over her clit, having lost a shitload of momentum in the past few seconds. She clenches her eyes and tilts her chin up, closing the gap between us just enough to feel the slightest brush of her lips on mine, but it’s not enough to take what she really wants.
Her chest heaves, and as her orgasm fades, her body sags against the headboard, but I don’t dare release my hold on her throat. She opens her blazing eyes, and I see the desire still burning within them. “When you’re ready to be fucked properly, you know where to find me. But Mila, when you finally come to me, you better fucking beg for it.”
And with that, I make my way into the bathroom, needing to take care of the raging erection between my legs for the ninth time this week.
DECEMBER
I’m on the fucking edge. How have we made it to December without Mila caving? I know where her heart is. I haven’t questioned that for a while, but she held out just as she said she would, and now, time is almost up.
It’s Christmas Eve, the one day that means the most to us, and it’s now or never.
My knee bounces as I sit on the edge of my bed, my elbows braced against my knees as Mila showers. I feel fucking sick. There are twenty minutes before I’m due to make my way to the workshop and prepare for the biggest night of the year, and yet all I can think about is this.
She needs to make her Christmas wish, and I honestly have no fucking idea where she’s going to go with it. Growing up, I always thought I knew her better than anyone, that I could anticipate her every move, but this past year has only proven that I don’t know shit.
I’m losing my fucking mind. I can’t handle it anymore. I’ve had her here all year, watching as she’s fallen in love with my home, built lifelong friendships, and created a home out of mine, and yet she’s never felt so far away. Don’t get me wrong, the past six months have been a little easier than the first six, but I feel her slipping away. She’s preparing to bail.
The shower stops, and a wave of nerves crashes in my gut, making me feel uneasy. This is it. The second she walks out of the bathroom, I need to know. Her time has run out.
The seconds feel as though they take a lifetime, and when the bathroom door finally opens and Mila strides out, wrapped in nothing but a towel, I see my whole world.
She finds me sitting on the edge of the bed, bypasses the walk-in closet, and comes to me looking just as nervous as I feel. She steps right into me, curling her hand around the back of my head, the two of us just being until I can’t handle it a second longer.
“It’s time, Mila,” I murmur, lifting my head to meet her stare. “I need to know what you want. If you wish to go back to New York and build a life on your own, you need to tell me now. You need to make your wish.”
Tears fill her eyes, and I prepare myself for the worst. “All I’ve ever wanted was to love you and be loved in return.”
“I know,” I say, reaching out and taking her waist, ready to tell her that I’ll be okay if she needs to destroy me, that I’ll find a way to survive, but we both know it’s bullshit. I won’t survive it even a little.
“I’ve missed you this year,” she continues. “That’s ridiculous, right? I’ve been right here, but I felt as though we’ve been living two different lives. I’ve never felt so far away, and I don’t like it. Everything was so easy last Christmas back home. We fit together so well, and this whole year we’ve been strained, and I know I’m to blame for that. Perhaps I wasn’t ready for the wishes I made.”
“Mila—”
“Let me get this out,” she whispers, taking my hand from her waist and squeezing it. “I know I started this year so angry, and it took me a long time to realize I wasn’t angry with you. I was angry with myself, and now . . . I’m so confused about everything.”
I stand from the edge of the bed, holding her to me, terrified that this is it, that this is the last time I’ll ever get to hold her.
“I love you, Nick,” she tells me. “I felt it the very first time we met . . . as adults that is, but I think a part of me knew, even as kids, that you were mine and I was yours.”
“I’ve always been yours.”
She smiles against my chest. “I’ve come to realize something,” she continues. “This whole year, I’ve been so hesitant to build a life with you, and I was wrong for that. I should have put my anger aside, should have understood why you swept me away. You were saving me. I belong here with you, but I need to go back to New York.”
My heart crumbles right out of my chest and I nod.
“Mila, please,” I start, not above dropping to my knees and begging her to stay.
A smile pulls at the corners of her lips, and she pushes up onto her toes, gently kissing me. “I left my Christmas charm bracelet there, and I have to get it before I wake up on Christmas morning.”
“Wait . . . what?”
“My bracelet with all the charms you gave me. I’m going to need that before I turn my back on New York entirely. Oh, and the red dildo. I can’t have the purple one without the red one. It’s a matching set, and we can’t keep them apart like that.”
“You’re staying?” I ask, not giving two shits about the bracelet or the twin cocks. All that matters is her.
“Yes, Nick. I want to truly start a life with you. I’m done being a stubborn bitch,” she tells me. “I’m ready to let you in. I’m ready to love you and really be loved in return. I want this, Nick. I want it all with you.”
My lips crash down on hers, and she smiles through our kisses. “I wish it,” she murmurs through our kiss. “I wish you’d never leave me alone. I wish you’d wake me up every morning with your mouth between my legs. I wish you’d make me come apart every time you touch me. But most of all, I wish that every single day I will love you even more. I wish to always be yours and that you’ll always be mine. I wish to be the woman of your dreams and have the most perfect life with you.”
“That’s a tall order, baby.”
“Well, I have it on good authority that my man is in the market of granting wishes, and considering just how much he likes to please me, I don’t doubt that he’ll come through for me.”
“So, that’s it?” I ask, never so happy in my life. “Anything else, your majesty?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Just how soon does this Christmas wish granting begin? Can I put in for an early Christmas wish?”
“That depends,” I say, and her body presses against mine. “What exactly is this early Christmas wish? Because I have it on good authority that your man doesn’t need to grant wishes to give you exactly what you need.”
“Is that so?” she questions, shoving her hands against my chest so I crash back against the mattress. She climbs on top of me, straddling my lap, and with a sparkle in her bright green eyes, she grins down at me. “Prove it, Santa Claus. Fuck me like I’ve been on your naughty list all year.”